"Hand the bread _only_ to Bessie, Mr. Gibbon. (Mama, I _must_ answer _sometimes_.") "We're waiting for the secret, dear." "It's about our mysterious presents, mama. Mr. Gibbon, you have heard us talk about our unknown benefactor who loads us with delightful things, and yet is so ungenerous he won't give us the pleasure of saying 'thank you.'" Yes. Mr. Gibbon had heard that there was some one who sometimes sent Miss Deleah flowers. "They're always sent to Deleah--but I suppose they're meant for all of us," Bessie said. "And because they came in my name only, gave me the first clue," Deleah said. "Let me see, we began with violets, didn't we? And in January, when they were scarce and expensive. Lovely bunches of violets 'for Miss Deleah.' Miss Deleah's name done in printing characters, so that no one should discover by the handwriting. Then we went on to a basket of sweets--sweets of my very most particular kind, such as none of us can afford any longer to look at. Oh, my mouth waters to think of them even now! No, I didn't ask for any more water in my glass, thank you, Mr. Gibbon." "We all know what you had, Deleah; we thought we were going to hear who sent them." "Patience! Patience, good people all! Let me see, what came next? Oh, the bird in the cage. And there he is still in his cage for you all to see," and Deleah leant back in her chair, and threw her pretty head over her shoulder to look at the canary hanging above the left-hand window where was her favourite seat. "Then the azalea. The lovely rose-pink azalea; and after that--oh, I forget. But always something coming--something that we cannot afford to buy, but which has made our sitting-room delightful; and horrid Bridge Street a bearable place to live in. Now you have all been dying to find out who it is that has given us these delightful things; but I have always known; and at last I am going to tell you." "Then, if you knew you should have told us. Deda ought not to have been so sly about it, mama, if she knew." "We shall each have one guess; and Bessie, as a reward for her good-nature, shall have the first. Now, Bessie?" "I've known all along, too, miss. And what's more, I've known that although they were sent to you, they were meant for me. Reggie Forcus." "Wrong. Here is Emily with the pudding. Emily, you shall have a guess; who is it who sends the flowers, and the books and the birds in the cages--?" "One of the masters at the school that has fell in love with you, Miss Deleah." Emily gave her opinion without hesitation, going on with her business of changing the plates. "Wrong again, Mr. Gibbon? Now, I give you a tip. Think of the least likely person in all the world." "The Quaker lady who objects to slave-grown sugar." Deleah laughed as she shook her head. "That is most ingenious. And would be delightful; but it is wrong. Now, mama. The least likely person in all the world, remember." "Mr. George Boult." "Mama has it. It is Mr. Boult."